


Missed

by BridgeToTheSky



Category: RWBY
Genre: A Little Fluff I Suppose, F/M, I'm a little rusty sorry, Lemon, Quickies, Shameless Smut, just smut really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 03:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeToTheSky/pseuds/BridgeToTheSky
Summary: So for my official introduction into the RWBY fandom, I present this Qrow smutfic! It's been a while since I've written (and finished, ahem) a smutfic, so I apologize for my rustiness! I hope you all enjoy!





	Missed

**Author's Note:**

> So for my official introduction into the RWBY fandom, I present this Qrow smutfic! It's been a while since I've written (and finished, ahem) a smutfic, so I apologize for my rustiness! I hope you all enjoy!

The sound of applause was abruptly silenced the moment you shut the door of your dressing room. You let out a sigh of both relief and satisfaction; another amazing performance.

 

Maybe your best so far? You didn’t know — what you _did_ know is that fulfilling your dream of acting, if only for a couple of months, had left you feeling more alive than all your time as a huntress, no matter how effective you were. Your physicality and acrobatic training had given you an advantage as a fighter and your ability and willingness to “act” — manipulate and disappear into an entirely different person — had bordered on psychosis for some, but had made you invaluable.

 

But … it had been your _father’s_ dream to see you fight the Grim, not yours, so when Qrow had broken the biggest rule in the book and told you about the underlying evil that was Salem and her forces, you realized that if you didn’t pursue your dreams now, it would be never. 

 

Your character had not yet melted away from you; you removed your mask and and headed to your desk, pouring yourself a glass of water, taking a gratuitous gulp.

 

Then, slow clapping.

 

You gasped and spun around immediately (damn your huntress instincts; they used to be sharper).

 

Thankfully, your instincts hadn’t dulled entirely, and even in the darkness you could make out who it was.

 

Shock gave way to another type of tensing, and your mouth went dry.

 

Qrow …

 

The mere image of him left you in the thick of surprise. Even if he _had_ been the only one to really understand your need to … break away from your old life as a huntress, and the two of you had successfully placed your relationship on halt without any yelling or item-throwing. 

 

You … didn’t think you would be seeing him for a long, long time. 

 

Obviously, you were mistaken.

 

“I’m glad I didn’t miss that,” he said, stepping out of the shadows, smug smile and all.

 

Whatever feelings of confusion and … warmth,  happiness , that swirled within you were tugged down even lower as you struggled to keep your composure.

 

You smiled back, sitting in your studio chair. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

 

You lowered your gaze (perhaps to hide a blush and perhaps not) and in your peripheral vision could see Qrow retrieve what could only be his flask from underneath his shirt.

 

“Though, can’t say I particularly enjoyed seeing _him_ slobber all over you …”

 

Another smile tugged at your lips. He could only be referring to your character’s … love interest, who just so happened to ravish you on stage during the end of act two.

 

You rose your head and watched as Qrow took another step, but still remained at least two feet away. Months had passed since you had seen him last and yet here you were, every molecule that lay underneath your skin reacting to his nearness.

 

What were you? Sixteen?

 

Qrow’s eyes left yours to explore the view of your body, hardly concealed by the revealing nature of your costume: a raven-black brassiere with a bikini-bottom, surrounded by long, shimmery strings that dazzled in the stage light. Then, his eyes returned to your face, an eyebrow ticked upwards.

 

“He kiss better than me?”

 

Just the word — _kiss_ — caused you to lick your lips, your body suddenly, subconsciously aware of what it was missing. 

 

“No …” you said, throat incredibly dry — glass of water be damned.

 

…

 

Suddenly, Qrow charged at you, flinging his flask away. You were on your feet, too, until you met him in the middle.

 

Lips crashed. 

 

God, had you really missed him this much …?

 

Hot breath and whiskey — without a single breath in between, you were hit with everything that was Qrow Branwen; his hands, rough from battle but delicate for you, grasped at your naked waist, one of them curving to your back. Your hands rose from his shoulders to caress his stubble-etched face.

 

Qrow nipped at your bottom lip with his teeth, his tongue calling to yours, willing to share what little taste of whiskey was left on it with you.

 

And it was not as if he needed to ask permission; you let him in and with a little pounce you were in his arms, legs around his waist. 

 

You couldn’t comprehend much but you could hear the crashing of what could only be your chair and the cold feel of your mirror’s glass against your back, Qrow’s hands pinning yours against the sides of your head.

 

His lips brushed against your chin, and in a voice clouded with lust he said:

 

“I missed you, unless I haven’t been obvious enough.”

 

His confession softened some of the raw passion within you, and you felt yourself melt against Qrow, your fingers now entangled in his messy locks.

 

He sucked-kissed against your earlobe. “Here’s the part where you _‘No, Qrow, he kisses like dogshit and I’ve missed you, too …’_ ”

 

You chuckled, busying yourself with planting gentle kisses against the line of Qrow’s chin. “Of course I missed you, missed _this_ …” 

 

You patterned kisses on the bridge of Qrow’s face, between the end of his jaw and the genesis of his neck, earning a soft, guttural sound from him. He tightened his grip against your wrists.

 

“I missed your hands, and your hair, and your skin … your smell …”

 

And it was all the truth; how could someone who drank so much feel so good?

 

Normally, he didn’t; this was all deliberate, and you knew it.

 

Damn him …

 

“I hated seeing _his_ hands all over you …”

 

You felt as Qrow’s hands took a new interest in your costume that left very little to the imagination. 

 

Now, it was nothing to Qrow, who was kissing the thick of your cleavage, slipping the straps down from your shoulders. You assisted, wiggling out of them until they rested against your sides. 

 

Qrow slipped it off of you with ease and flung it somewhere to the side of the room. You felt his hand slip into your bikini bottom and you drew a sharp breath, your legs flinching against his strong arm, squeezing it between your thighs.

 

You heard him chuckle at your sensitivity. His other hand working to undo his trousers and free his straining erection. 

 

Your clit is trapped against two of Qrow’s fingers, helpless to them. He worked his fingers on you, causing you to arch —

 

“Qrow, _fuck_ …!” 

 

You reached for him, knocking his hand out of the way and undoing the rest of his fly. You dug your hand into his trousers, delighting in the long, drawn-out grunt he gave when you finally grasped his cock in your hands. 

 

You pushed forward, raising off the table and on your feet. You wiggled out of your bikini bottom, letting it pool between your legs, along with your shimmers. Qrow then wrapped a hand around your waist and lifted you back on the table, shoving masks and costume props out of his way, some thudding to the floor. 

 

He met your lips again, letting out soft groans as you tugged playfully at his length. You shoved his pants down, then his boxers, and wrapped your legs around him again. You opened an eye that landed its view on the door, and suddenly it surprised you that no one had yet come to greet you on your performance. 

 

Qrow didn’t allow your mind to travel very far from him, though; his tongue came to play with the roof of your mouth, tickling you until you were forced to meet him with your own. His fingers curling inside of you, his other hand keeping you crushed to him. You could feel him smile into the kiss, pleased with all your squirming.

 

They abandoned your slit to play with your swollen labia, truly dedicated and fully trained at exciting you.

 

“ _Qrow_ …” you mewled, tightening your grasp on his cock. You stroked him, his cock hitting against the inside of your thigh. 

 

It became too much for Qrow and he left your mouth to rest himself against the side of your face, his heavy breathing hot in your ear.

 

When you felt as though he was hard enough in your palm, you released him, parting from the kiss only to say, “C’mon …”

 

Ever the perceptive one, Qrow didn’t seem to need any further instruction; he positioned himself against you. Your hands went to his back again, still clothed but heated from his sweat.

 

“This isn’t gonna last very long, is it?” he huffed into your ear, and then smiled against your cheek as he felt the vibration of your laugh. 

 

You closed your eyes, waiting for it. Then, with no further wait, you felt Qrow slide inside of you. Your nails sank into the island of his shoulders with a soft moan. 

 

“Urgh … yeah,” Qrow sighed, and thrusted fully inside of you, pushing you up against your mirror. “Missed … this …”

 

Qrow gave a series of slow, try-out thrusts, as though he were simply savoring the prospect of being inside you. You hummed, letting your head fall against the mirror, eyes closing; you had missed him, too …

 

One of Qrow’s hands slid to your ass, gripping the thick, meaty skin between his fingers with a possessive growl. 

 

You came back to your senses, tightening yourself around Qrow. “C’mon, you can do better than that, I know you can …”

 

A devilish smirk tugged at Qrow’s lips and suddenly he gave a quick, abrupt thrust into you — you gasped, squeezing against his cock without meaning to. His nails bit into your ass as he clung to you tighter, giving another thrust, then another, another … 

 

Before you knew it he had found a rhythm with you; one of your hands fell on the table to push off against it, and soon you were thrusting against Qrow just as much as he was against you. 

 

Qrow threw his head back, some of his hair hitting against your cheek. He gave a deep, pleased growl, and — simply from experience — you knew that he was close.

 

Which was fine by you, as you … weren’t going to last long, either.

 

Qrow’s other hand came to play with your clit. You bit your lip to suppress you knew would prove to be too loud, would attract too much unwanted attention. 

 

“C’mon …” he baited, against your ear, in what had to be the huskiest voice imaginable. “ _C’mon,_ (Y/n), give me what I came here for …”

 

You heard more items crashed to the floor as you rocked wildly into Qrow, one of your hands tugging against his black tresses. You could hear him hiss your name as your orgasm finally came to you, every muscle trembling from the strength of your climax. Qrow’s thrusts turned quick and sporadic as he followed you, growling low as his seed spilled into you. He slammed his fist against the side of the mirror, settling with a few more thrusts into you before he suddenly stopped moving entirely, his energy, at last, spent.

 

You sat there for a second, head against the mirror, delighting in the final waves of your orgasm. Qrow took to peppering your cheeks with kisses, a shadow of what you had done to him earlier, before gently moving away from you. You opened your eyes just in time to hear the zipping of clothes and began to look in his direction. 

 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, “but I gotta go.”

 

You were happy to find that your breath had finally caught up to you. You gasped dramatically, feigning offense. 

 

“I knew this was one of your hit-it-and-quit-its,” You said. “You _disgust_ me.”

 

Qrow grinned at you, reaching out a hand to perk up your chin. 

 

“I’ll see you later, all right? Go enjoy your … ehh … encore … or whatever you call it here.”

 

You hopped from the table, retrieving your fallen clothes. “Thanks, I will.”

 

Qrow gave one last lingering stare before turning away, heading out the door and closing it behind him. 

 

You lowered your gaze, spotting the places on the floor where your clothing had been discarded. You found yourself laughing at the absurdity that had been the last half-hour or so of your life —  Qrow had fucked you in your dressing room …

 

You scooped up your outfit, beginning to prepare yourself for the encore that you couldn’t help but feel had already happened.


End file.
